Here and Gone
by Fox Murphy
Summary: His friends spilled off the train and into the waiting arms of their parents, and the grief hit him unexpectedly, like a hex to the face. As soon as they were outside the station he slipped away into the crowded London streets...


A/N - Here I'm trying to write a nice Marauder fic, and this is all I can manage. Oh well. No beta, all mistakes are my own. And no, I don't own Harry Potter - if I did, all the characters I loved and cared about would not have died. Trust me.

The air felt thick and heavy, waiting for the coming rain that rumbled in charcoal colored clouds overhead. White mist snaked around the stones, hiding the path and suspending the cemetery in a silent state. A thin boy eased his way between two angel monuments, stone wings spread wide against the grey sky. Dead leaves crunched behind him and he felt his breath quicken as he hurried onward toward his destination at the rear of the cemetery. The boy stepped lightly over plots that lay forgotten, headstones crumbling and nearly reclaimed by grass and weeds and pale wildflowers. At last he reached the black metal fence, damp already in the muggy weather. The fence pulled him onward, deeper into the cemetery, to a small gate that swung open at his touch. A feeling like feathers brushed over him as he passed the threshold of the gate, a whisper of magic, and to anyone else who ventured this deep into the grounds the collection of graves looked to be in a state of disrepair. But to him, the graves here shone in the smokey light, embraced by the mist and earth and entirely more real.

He knew he must seem hopelessly out of place. A thin boy wearing a too-big sweatshirt, his face hidden by the hood, with the laces of his trainers trailing after him on the ground. But no one could see him, not now at least. And the boy was left to wander between the graves, hand brushing lightly across the top of a headstone bearing the name of Sirius Black, the figure of a dog mid-stride guarding the grave for eternity from atop the stone. A few paces forward and to his left, the boy stopped for a moment at a larger square of marble that bore only one name, that of Edward Tonks. Space had been left to the right of Ted's name, waiting to be joined by the name of his wife when time arrived for her to follow. The boy shuddered and passed on, ducking around a large mausoleum that proclaimed the name Bones in old faded letters slowly wearing away from the stone. Dearborn, Meadows, a whole plot of graves that belonged to various Prewetts, and still the boy wandered further, aware of the presence of those sleeping below. The thought sent a chill down his spine, and threatened to unnerve him, feeling the eyes on his back, the whispers in the air.

Never before had he visited the cemetery alone. Never had anyone wanted him to travel this quiet place unaccompanied. But sneaking away from busy London streets proved an easy thing to do, especially for thin boys who could vanish easily in plain sight. They would be looking for him, certainly. No one would look in the in the old Muggle churchyard though, not for quite some time. He had been visiting the cemetery since he was small, he knew his own way by now. And unlike other children who had visited, he had never been afraid. He had never hid in the folds of his grandmother's skirts or clutched the hand of his godfather and asked quietly to go home. In fact he had always been reluctant to leave, always felt strangely called to this place of whispers in the silence and shadows in the mist. His path led him back to a corner of the cemetery, to a small plot shadowed by a tree that hung over the black iron fence. Two names were carved into the stone, Remus and Nymphadora Lupin. Tracing the cuts in the stone with two fingers, eyes welling up despite his best efforts, Teddy Lupin sank to the ground beside his parents.

Nothing had changed since his last visit, the words on the stone just as final as always, a last declaration of two fallen heroes who had first fallen in love. The flowers he had brought with his grandmother had washed away as usual. No imprint remained that their boy, their Teddy, had ever visited. Had ever known them at all. The wind picked up, kicking dirt and leaves into the air and tugging the hood from Teddy's face like gentle unseen hands. The boy revealed bore a strong resemblance to his father that he made no effort to hide even when morphed. Teddy naturally possessed his father's nose and crooked smile, his blue eyes and sandy colored hair. Usually Teddy kept his hair streaked scarlet and gold, proud of house colors. Currently, his hair was rapidly fading to a sandy brown streaked strongly with gray. Unaware of this, and not particularly caring, Teddy tapped his wand, his father's wand, against his knees, staring silently at the grave where his parents lay. Even to his own mind, his deepest wish sounded ridiculous, irrational. But right now he was a twelve year old boy who wanted more than anything in the world, to have his parents at home, with him, and not sleeping below. A deep aching in his chest made breathing painful and his eyes squeeze shut, and Teddy fought not to cry even though no one was watching. He had seen pictures, and a few shared memories, but all he really had left of his parents were faded half-remembrances and imagined dreams of a childhood that could have been.

All of his friends from school had spilled onto Platform 9 and 3/4 and run safe into the arms of their waiting parents, even if they were twelve year old boys and both running and parents were a bit beneath their acceptable level of coolness. Teddy had wandered to where his grandmother waited, along with Uncle Harry and his family, little James tugging excitedly on his sleeve. And the grief had hit him unexpectedly, like a hex to the face. As soon as the little welcome group reached the outside of the station and passed onto a busy London sidewalk, Ted had slipped away at the first chance. There was no chance at Apparating, no use of Floo, and instead Ted had desperately shoved his wand into the air and hailed the Knight Bus. With some degree of difficulty, the driver found his way to the small white church with faded paint and black metal fence. The conductor, who had given up trying to cheer his passenger's mood, vanished with a half-hearted wave along with the bus, and Teddy had been fully alone on the silent hillside. The walk to the cemetery had taken no time at all, and yet he hoped no one would look here, not for awhile anyway. Here beneath the swaying tree branches, among the silent graves, Ted felt closer to his parents than he ever had anyplace else. Still the loneliness threatened, choked, and burned in his throat. He roughly shoved a hand across his eyes, his fingers coming away wet with tears. Quietly he waited, tears running freely down his face, rolling off his cheeks and splashing into the grass and dirt that marked his parents resting place.

Thunder rumbled overhead and the rain that had been threatening finally arrived, drenching the cemetery and the lone living occupant. His clothes were dripping within minutes, but Teddy made no move to dry himself or look for cover. He was crying and alone and somehow he felt as though the world knew precisely how miserable he felt and was crying along with him. Raindrops fell from the juniper branches, splashing onto his nose and rolling into puddles that formed between his trainers. The wind stirred once more, wet and heavy and carrying the scent of forests and furs and old fires. Teddy shut his eyes and drew a deep, shuddering breath as the rain slowed to a steady drizzle. Something moved across his face, wiping his cheek, and when Ted opened his eyes once more he found two dark eyes in a pale, heart shaped face staring up at him. Her hair shifted with the breeze, one moment spiky and short and the next in long dark curls.

"Mum?" he breathed, the question barely a sound.

The woman nodded, and the leaves rustled to Ted's right. Beside him now rested a tall man with his nose and his eyes, his sandy brown hair and his crooked smile. Scars crossed his face, and the lingering traces of mischief long managed danced in his eyes.

"Dad."

Then the rain clouds faded entirely and the sun burned through grey skies and white pooling mist and shone through two figures of Remus and Dora Lupin. Both of them were grey and washed out, as though all their color had been spent, and both of them smiled sadly and longingly and pulled close to him beneath the juniper and the fence.

"You can't...you can't talk, can you?" Teddy asked. His father shook his head slowly, sadly. "You knew I came."

At this both his parents gave soft, sad smiles, and his father's hand squeezed his shoulder reassuringly, his mouth moving silently. _We always know when you need us._

"But I've always needed you, and you're not, you've never," Teddy found that a sudden lump in his throat made talking difficult, his eyes burning. For a moment he was simply angry, furious, wanted to shout and demand to know why they left him. How they could leave him. His face burned hot, his jaw clenched, but then Teddy met his father's eyes. The expression uttered an aching apology and needed no words. Instantly Teddy's anger vanished upon the realization that the hurt fell both ways. His parents suffered just as much over the events of a night thirteen years past. They were safe and whole and together, but they had known no peace since the realization that they would never return home._ You must understand. We fought because we loved you. Because we had to make a better world for you. I didn't want you to grow up living in fear. But I am sorry, for the time we lost._

Teddy nodded glumly, his melancholy returning. The words had been used a hundred times or more, by Uncle Harry usually and sometimes by Gran. When said by his father though, even though no real sound could be heard, the words meant much more. They felt more true. His mother's hand turned his chin towards her, dark eyes reflecting his own, down to the shimmering pool of unshed tears. _And w__e've always been with you._

Two hands, one small one large, pressed against his beating heart, cold and insubstantial as the mist but a gentle touch all the same.

_Here._

"I know," Teddy admitted. "I guess I just...I needed to see you. Needed to know."

His father looked suddenly solemn for a moment, the echo of the teacher he had once been.

_No matter what happens, you have our love. Never forget that._

"I won't," Teddy sniffed, "I promise."

For a moment there was warmth around him, a feeling of peace and safety and the security of being wrapped in the arms of his parents, a feeling Teddy had forgotten long ago. Then there was a kiss on his cheek, a hand ruffling his hair, and then the leaves rustled and the wind picked up and his parents were standing in front of him. Ghostly and grey, as transparent as the mist, they smiled down at their son. Past them Teddy could see others on the path, men and women who he did not recognize. There were twins with curly hair and laughing eyes, a stately looking women and her family, together in eternity. His grandfather Ted, his namesake, smiling and waving. A handsome young man with long dark hair that fell across his forehead laughed silently and changed into a huge dog with a wagging tail. His mother waved back at her own father, then blew a kiss to her son.

_Love you Teddy._

The words were silent, but memories that others had shared supplied the voice of his mother, soft and ever-cheerful. His father said something in the direction of the dog, who became human once more and vanished entirely. Then blue eyes met blue, father and son.

_I'm proud of you Teddy. And I'll always love you._

Gentle and strong, Teddy's mind supplied the voice of his father that he would never truly hear. But seeing him, seeing both of them, for now that managed to be good enough. A dark grey cloud passed over the sun, and somewhere very far away sounding a church bell echoed over the grounds. Wind and mist wrapped around the shapes of Remus and Dora Lupin, and when the sun returned they were gone. All that remained was the thin boy in a too-big sweatshirt, his trainers untied and his wand hanging limply from one hand. His hair stayed sandy brown and grey, and one hand wiped the last trail of tears from his face. But his mouth had turned up into a small crooked grin, and the aching in his chest had faded and gone. The phantom presence of warm, loving arms lingered around him as the sunlight gleamed in the names etched into the stone.

"I love you too."

Teddy gripped the wet post of the fence and hauled himself to his feet, shoving his wand into his pocket and pulling his hood up once more against the drizzling rain. He passed one more look across the grave of his parents, then wandered down the path he had come. Soaked to the skin, dreading what his grandmother would do, Teddy nonetheless could not help but feel rather content. His parents loved him, had always loved him. And although they had not been visible, had not reappeared, he knew they had heard his reply.


End file.
